The Warden's Rose
by a.lucid.dream
Summary: Warning: Alistair/M!Cousland Amidst the growing Blight, the last of the Ferelden Grey Wardens struggle to raise an army to defend the land. Along the way, they encounter much strife. A King lay dead, Mages bitterly oppressed, Elves caught in a blood feud, Dwarves caught in civil unrest and an ailing Arl. And while the world collapses around them, somehow, something beautiful grows
1. Chapter 1 - Beneath Starry Skies

It kept him awake all night. This feeling, this taint, the pollution that surged through his veins, twisting him. He saw them, the creatures, as they swarmed around their master. Vile creatures they were, with vicious fangs, blotched faces and hearts black as tar. They snarled, they roared, as their master addressed them. Sometimes, he even thought he could understand them. But for Samuel Cousland, the snarls of darkspawn left nothing but restlessness.

He wondered if Alistair ever felt this way. Probably not. Alistair was strong. Experienced. And Samuel was completely new. Completely fresh. If only Duncan were still around.

Samuel exhaled loudly, willing himself to sleep. Above him, the stars were sprawled across the sky, peaceful and timeless. Was Duncan up there? Was his mother and father? His brother? How Samuel missed them. The last few weeks were taking their toll and all he could do was lie here, wishing he could find some solace in sleep. He felt a deep sadness in his heart, an ache that spread to his limbs, slowly consuming everything about himself.

He remembered his last summer in Highever. He had just turned of age and finally, his mother had allowed his brother and father to intoxicate him. He had spent an entire night laughing, dancing and singing beneath starry skies outside of the city in the family orchards. He remembered the beautiful smile of the daughter of the Bann of Amaranthine City, Zira, and the depth of her eyes. The laughter of his nephew as he danced and danced and danced around the mesmerizing flames. Most of all, he remembered the feeling of passing out, of finally letting himself go after hours of joy and song, knowing that the Maker had truly blessed him.

But those times were over. The Maker, it seemed, had deserted Samuel. Of course, there were those that would argue with the zealotry of the Chantry that the Maker had blessed him with a purpose; conquer the darkspawn and save the world. But as Samuel witnessed, did the world really need saving? Or deserve it?

The King lie dead, the Grey Wardens hated and civil war was brewing within the Landsmeet. And all because of one man. Teryn Loghain.  
Did the fool think to banish the darkspawn himself? Or did he simply not understand the gravity of the situation? That this was not just some stray darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds but a full-blown Blight? To Samuel, nothing made sense anymore. Except the treaties.

"Oooh, a shooting star!" Alistair murmured playfully, "Quick Sammy, make a wish!"

Samuel managed a soft smile. "Nope. You're still here," he jested.

Alistair let out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh Sammy, you hurt me! Here I was thinking that we were the bestest of friends."

A booming laugh erupted from Samuel and he could feel Morrigan's eyebrows lifting from her tent on the other side of camp. In the background, Bodahn Feddic let out a loud snore, sending Alistair and Samuel into a fit of suppressed giggles.

"We better watch it," Alistair warned, looking seriously into Samuel's eyes, "Lest the Witch of the Wilds turn us into frogs."

This sent Samuel roaring with laughter as he imagined Morrigan glaring at the two boys. "True. But at least you'd get an improvement!"

"Ouch," Alistair feigned hurt.

Samuel grinned and tapped Alistair on the face. "Don't worry, you're a big boy, you can handle it." He paused. "But, I think we should sleep. Tomorrow, the Brecilian awaits us. And the elves."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Not that that isn't fascinating but it's ruining the slumber party."

And with one last chuckle, the two Grey Wardens fell asleep.

On the other side of camp, Morrigan watched silently as the Grey Wardens laughed and joked with one another. Such things seemed strange to her. These two, ultimately, were the leaders of a war against demons whom were tipped to destroy everything but here they were, laughing about ruined slumber parties.

But then again, she realized, Samuel had been having trouble sleeping and now, he slept. Perhaps they joked to make it easier to deal with? Regardless, it seemed stupid. The behaviour of fools.

She thought of her restless nights in the Wilds with Flemmeth. When she would sneak out and assume the form of a great spider or bear to simply sit amongst the Wilds and exist. Oh, she could think still, but she didn't have to. It was her own private world. She could walk with the animals and know them, knowing full well they could not know her, but she could just be. Right now, for some absurd and nostalgic reason, she wished she could do that. She wished to assume the form of a great eagle and take flight away.

But for some reason, she didn't. Something within her being told her to stay. If not to fight the darkspawn and save a world she never really cared for, then to learn more about the world. A noble cause, indeed.

A small spider crept across her arm, skittering on eight uncertain legs. As if to realize its terrible mistake, the spider attempted to run off Morrigan's arm but she held it in place.

"Why hello, old friend," she whispered softly. "I am pleased to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2 - Keeping Safe

Alistair sighed in exhaustion before he fell to his knees. The werewolves of the forest had more fight than he thought they would. But the worst was meeting Danyla. That poor woman, cursed to be a werewolf, never to see the great love of her life ever again. No one could do anything to deserve that, or so Alistair believed. And now all that remained was a scarf. One that Samuel would deliver to Athras.

As he succumbed to the day fighting through the forests, fighting darkspawn, werewolves and even the trees, he heard Samuel's call. Panic invaded the call, almost a shriek, and Alistair felt two arms catch him.

"Alistair!" Samuel exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Alistair wasn't, but he wasn't about to let that stop everything. "Fine as a dandelion. Why do you ask?"

Morrigan moved forward, pushing Samuel away and inspecting the wounds of Alistair. For a moment she studied him intensely, considering the Grey Warden closesly. After a short time, she rose and folded her arms. "You seem to just be wearing yourself out. Perhaps it would be prudent if we took a break," she suggested wisely.

"In ruins where the undead party and the werewolves call in for noise complaints with fangs?" Alistair retorted sarcastically.

Morrigan said nothing, but the look on her pale face expressed the disdain she held for Alistair's sense of humour. Instead, she busied herself with inspecting the old Tevinter ruins which surrounded her. She found herself fascinated by a wall adornment telling the story of what appeared to be a young elf using magic and swords to repel humans. His mighty blade glowed with great power and she wondered if perhaps this was a depiction of the mighty Arcane Warriors Flemmeth had told her about once upon a time.

The last of the pictures depicted the elf falling to the might of a mage, whose great stave glowed faintly with magical power. Morrigan shuddered slightly, knowing full well that no man had ever carved these pictures. In fact, she did not think that her companions could even see these images. They were only for a mage's eyes. A warning, perhaps.

"I think Morrigan is right," Samuel said after a time. "We should rest here for a while."

Merrick, Samuel's beloved Mabari, let out a woof of approval as he curled up next to Alistair, licking his hand. For a moment, it seemed that Alistair would protest but he sunk down against the wall, accepting the wisdom of Morrigan reluctantly.

The fool would not listen to me, but to the other? Morrigan mused to herself. Humans.

She once again turned to the walls, studying the secrets they betrayed. If her companions had noticed the depictions on the wall, they had yet to comment. Although, as they were not mages, one could argue that such things were not of interest to them. Then again, Morrigan could sense the power behind these carvings, a silent truth echoing out throughout the ages. The story of the Arcane Warrior interested her and she surprisingly found herself disappointed that it had ended so shortly. Some part of her wished that the Arcane Warrior had succeeded but then again, she could feel the power of the Archmage even now. That human had indeed been powerful. For a moment, Morrigan wondered if this mage were more powerful than Flemmeth herself.

She found her hands trailing the walls, tracing the history of the ruins, feeling their magicks. She saw the men that built this temple, Tevinter mages whom had partnered with the elves native to the Brecilian Forest. Originally, she gleaned, this place was meant as a place of worship. For what, however, remained a mystery. What became clear though, was the treachery of the Tevinter mages. Something of great power, of the Fade, corrupted the Tevinter and they turned on their elven allies. A great battle ensued and despite the efforts of the Keepers and the Arcane Warriors, the temple fell. But somehow, even then, the Tevinter perished within the temple.

To this, Morrigan raised her eyebrows. She sensed the battle and the fall of the elves, however there was merely a blank expanse before the Tevinter also lay dead. Most likely, the evil spirit they let loose decided to kill them too. Humans, after all, were dark things.

But then, a curious feeling overcame her. She felt a presence. An echo. Something else resided within these ruins, aside the corpses and the werewolves. She felt sadness. Regret. Taint. Hatred. All at once, she felt a disturbance. A deep-seated hatred which could not be a blood feud between werewolves and elves. There was something else here. Something not of this world. Perhaps the spirit which drove the Tevinter to slaughter the elves and then each other still existed here.

Morrigan turned to address her companions but stopped when she saw them. Samuel, Alistair and Merrick lie against the wall, curled into one another. They seemed peaceful. And so, against her better instincts, Morrigan left them to rest.

Taking a seat on the stone floor, she assumed a vigilant watch over the Wardens. And curiously, she felt the dark presence weaken, as if such closeness of friends repelled it.


End file.
